December 2010
52 posts
Donne
As virtuous men pass mildly away, And whisper to their souls, to go, Whilst some of their sad friends do say, “The breath goes now,” and some say, “No:” So let us melt, and make no noise, No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move; ‘Twere profanation of our joys To tell the laity our love. Moving of th’ earth brings harms and fears; Men reckon what it did, and...
